I Don't Care If I Hurt Your Feelings Because Your Cornbread Be Dry AF!

I'm a mindful person. 

That might sound like a humble brag but really, it's a matter of fact. One that I don't have an issue sharing with the world because it took me a long while to reach this mental space. Everyone deserves respect, we have to meet people where they are, and woman have agency over their bodies. Full stop. I don't feel the need to fight anyone to prove how much of a man I am. I don't judge people based on their sexual orientation, socio-economic status, or political affiliation.

In fact, I don't have beef with anyone for any reason because: a) I don't like to dedicate my energy to those pursuits and b) Karma.

But there is a group of people I can't stand.

People who make dry ass cornbread and post their dry ass cornbread photos on the internet like they doing something. I hate those people with every fiber of my being. I hate them more than I hate people who think Hennessy is a great liquor.

Wait, wait! Let me be clear: I don't actually hate people who love Henny, I just don't understand them. In my opinion, Henny is a bottom-to-mid-shelf cognac and think that our community's collective love for the spirit is misguided. Especially when Jay Z out here with D'USSÉ (which is MUCH better than Hennessy, by the way). But still, I have no lingering animosity towards y'all. 

I don't even take issue with White people who unnecessarily add raisins to their potato salad. I mean, like the Henny crowd, I don't understand the fuss but to each his or her own.


Not only is it not a good look for the culture, it doesn't taste good. You can't maple syrup your way out of that crumbly pile of corn-based dust you trying to pass off as cornbread. Cornbread is supposed to work as the glue to a soulful dish. It binds together the meats with the veggies. It's the food bow that ties everything together. It's the Scottie Pippen of Southern plates. It may never be the star of the show but when you got a good number two, you can win 6 NBA championships.

I repeat: Cornbread is NOT Michael Jordan. That honor would go to the fried chicken, fried fish, yams, or even the raisin-less potato salad. But the right slice of cornbread can give you a balanced offense while also dunking on Patrick Ewing.

Cornbread is important. It matters. And I'm so tired of y'all passing of cornbread flavored bricks as culinary works of art. If you read this and your feelings are hurt it's because you know that you are one of those people and I don't care if you mad. BE MAD. I'm mad at you for making DRY ASS CORNBREAD and for having the audacity to post that calamity on Instagram. So we even. 

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